FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. This is *not* a Paid Story.
Eighteen-year-old hockey prodigy Elliot Wexler has three goals for senior year. One: somehow graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Two: hide his bipolar disorder from his peers. And three: make it in...
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THE RED AND YELLOW décor of the diner is too bright, and it drills into my eyes. I shift in the red plastic booth. Beneath my thigh, a piece of torn fabric digs into my jeans. I shuffle over, only to meet with another.
A waitress leans over the counter at the bar and flirts with an older man in a suit. He stands out like a sore thumb in this place, whereas me, my green and black flannel and worn-out Metallica shirt fit right in. I guess I can't judge the other customers when I look like this. I need a shower. Africa by Toto plays on the radio.
Adam Wexler picks weird places to meet.
I tear apart a napkin and trickle pieces over the coffee rings on the off-white table. The streets outside are murky under the night sky, and I catch my reflection in the window: shaggy bangs, buggy brown eyes. I look horrible. Like I did the night I broke into Elliot's shed. It's insane to think that he fell in love with me.
My heart sinks. He hasn't bothered texting me since we broke up, and I don't blame him. Maybe it's better that we cut all ties, anyway. All I care about is that he's safe.
Adam has been polite enough to let me know how Elliot is doing whenever we discuss the case, but we've never met in person, only talked over the phone. I don't know why he wants to meet now. My palms are sweaty, and I can't stop shredding this napkin.
The door to the diner dings. Adam walks in and adjusts the neck of his brown leather jacket. His eyes fall right on me, and I turn to concrete. This is so weird, especially since Adam was never been my biggest fan when I lived in his house. I swallow the lump in my throat as he sits across from me.
"Hey." I try to sound casual.
"How's it going?" His voice is gruff, his face tired.
"Fine, I guess."
The waitress trots up. "Can I get you folks anything?"
Adam looks at me. "You want something?"
I shake my head.
"You sure? Can grab a bite if you want."
"No, I'm okay. Thanks."
I'm hungry, but I can eat later. Since Colt's off the radar, Brett and Alecia are letting me crash on their couch again.
"Suit yourself." Adam smiles stiffly at the waitress. "Just a coffee, thanks."
We're quiet until the waitress drops off his drink. Adam clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee, black, before his eyes meet mine.
"So. Any news?"
I'm silent. His nostrils flare as he takes another tense sip.
